


A Bat-Family Carol

by Geekygirl24



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekygirl24/pseuds/Geekygirl24
Summary: Though Gotham awaits the joyful arrival of Christmas, Bruce Wayne could think of nothing worse. Three ghosts take him on a journey through his past, present and future in the hope of transforming his bitterness.





	1. Ra's Al Ghul

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in July… because I knew it would take me this long to write a fic for Christmas.  
> Batfamily Christmas Carol AU, here we come 😊

Ra’s Al Ghul was dead… to begin with.

 

Dead as a door nail.

 

After yet another showdown between the Dark Knight and the Demon’s Head, Batman had managed to come out on top (barely), disarming the Leader of the League of Assassins and using the man’s own sword to stab him through the heart.

 

It was over…. And Batman regretted it instantly.

 

He’d broken his one rule.

 

No killing.

 

“B?”

 

Silently, Bruce turned to face the young boy beside him.

 

Jason… he’d only been Robin for a little over a year and it was clear that the boy had anger issues… he couldn’t have Jason make the same mistake as he just did.

 

“You alright B?” Jason scanned the older man from head to toe, wincing at the sight of all the cuts and bruises, “You look… awful.”

 

“I’m fine.” Bruce’s voice was a low growl, with more than a touch of tension in it, causing Jason to back away slightly, still slightly nervous from his time on the streets.

 

“No need to snap B…” Jason muttered, trying to play off his nerves, “… I was just- “

 

“- Enough!” Bruce turned and moved past his adoptive son, “We’re going home… now!”

 

“But B- “

 

“- NOW ROBIN!”

 

………………………..Seven months later………………..

 

“Again!” commanded Bruce as he threw Jason to the ground, “Watch your footing! A mistake like that could get you or both of us killed!”

 

“Yeah, yeah…” Jason whispered, clearly exhausted as he pushed his aching muscles into a defensive position. However, before he could begin again, footsteps echoed throughout the Bat-cave as Alfred made his way downstairs, a tray of sandwiches in his arms.

 

“Sparring still?” the butler began, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Bruce, “It’s Christmas Eve Master Bruce, surely Batman and Robin can take a break? The rest of Gotham is after all.”

 

Jason glanced eagerly at Bruce, before turning away as Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. 

 

“Gotham never rests Alfred…” Bruce growled, “… and Jason needs all the practice he can get.”

 

Alfred frowned, “Would it kill you to feel a little bit of Christmas spirit Master Bruce? Santa won’t come if you’re not feeling the true spirit.”

 

As Jason cackled at the butler’s sarcasm, Bruce found himself getting tense. “What right do you have to be so happy about all this…” he growled at the man who’d practically raised him from the age of nine, “… looking for a Christmas bonus?”

 

There was a stunned silence in the cave, with Jason no daring to make a sound as a disappointed look flash across Alfred’s face.

 

“And what right do you have to be so miserable…” Alfred eventually spoke up, acting as though the words hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, “… when you have everything you ever need?” He glanced at Jason meaningfully, before spinning around on his heels and heading back towards the entrance. Before he left however, he twisted back around, “Merry Christmas Master Bruce. Merry Christmas Master Jason.”

 

“Merry Christmas Alfred!” Jason called out, the smile disappearing from his face as Bruce turned a harsh glare at him.

 

“Let me guess… you don’t want to go on patrol today or tomorrow?”

 

Jason nodded slowly, clearly treading the water carefully. “If you don’t mind?”

 

“Well, apparently my opinions mean nothing in this house, so go ahead. But the morning after, I want you to be up an hour earlier for training. Do you understand?”

 

Jason nodded frantically, “Yeah, yeah, I get it!”

 

“Go then.”

 

The tone was dismissive, and Jason’s face fell slightly at it. But he nodded in understanding anyway and raced out of the cave. Bruce stared after him, before shaking his head and heading over to the Bat-computer.

 

Robin might not want to fight crime, but Batman never had a night off.

 

He had work to do.

 

And then his personal mobile started to ring.

 

As soon as he answered it, a familiar, gruff voice spoke up.

 

“Mister Wayne!” The mayor exclaimed, “I’d noticed you hadn’t replied to the invitation for the annual Christmas party, the fundraiser? We’re raising money for the local orphanages and- “

 

“-I’m very sorry…” Interrupted Bruce, “… but I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend.”

 

“Oh… well, may I ask why?”

 

“Business… nothing personal, however, I will be out of the country until the New Year.”

 

Without even waiting for a reply, Bruce ended the call, continuing on with his work.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………

 

The hours flew by and before long, Bruce found himself heading back to his room. The mansion was dark and practically deserted at this time of the night, with Jason and Alfred in bed, probably having already taken care of the presents.

 

As he approached his bedroom door, Bruce suddenly stopped, eyes widening at a familiar, ghostly figure.

 

“Ras Al Ghul?” he whispered.

 

The figure smirked, before rushing at him, mouth open in a silent scream as Bruce was forced to roll out of the way of the oncoming attack. Leaping to his feet, Bruce span around…. But there was nobody there. Twisting around, he desperately scanned the area… still nothing.

 

Quickly, he opened his door and walked in… nothing in there either.

 

Shaking his head, he took a seat on his bed and sighed wearily…. Maybe he did need to start sleeping more.

 

And then he heard the banging.

 

“Jason…” he hissed in anger, “… I swear I’m going to- “

 

There was another bang, followed by the rattling of chains.

 

“… Jason?” 

 

The sound was far too close to be Jason.

 

He twisted around, only to leap to his feet as the ghostly figure strode through his door, a long chain still attached to his neck and a sneer on the aged face.

 

“Who are you?!” Bruce demanded to know.

 

The figure smirked, “Why don’t you ask me who I was?”

 

“… Who were you then?”

 

“You know exactly who I was…. I am the one who leads the League of Assassins, the Demon’s Head! Ras Al Ghul!”

 

“…. You’re dead.”

 

“You don’t believe in me?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why do you doubt your sense Bruce?”

 

“Because even the slightest thing can fool them…. A crumb of bread, a piece of cheese or a bit of uncooked potatoes. There is more of gravy than grave about you!”

 

Ras laughed at this, the cackle echoing throughout the room as he didn’t even bother to dignify the statement with a response.

 

“What do you want Ras… apart from trying to make my life harder?”

 

“I’m here to warn you Bruce… warn you of your fate when you come to join me.”

 

“My fate?!”

 

Ras shook his head, “You’re not a kind man Bruce… some might even call you cruel.”

 

Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Bruce shook his head. “If this is all about my…. Alternate life, then being kind isn’t something I’m worried about.”

 

“And what about your son…. He’s not happy Bruce, in fact, you could argue that he’s depressed. Your billionaire persona is falling apart all around you…. But there is still a chance for you.”

 

“A chance?”

 

Ras grabbed the chain that was still trailing behind him and practically thrusted it in Bruce’s face, “You see this chain? The weight of this chain reflects all of my sins, every dark act I’ve ever performed! A similar chain is developing for you because of everything that you’ve been doing…. Every cruel action adds another link to the chain!”

 

Bruce shook his head, “I do what I have to do in order to help Gotham, in order to make it a better place for Jason!”

 

“You treat him like a whipping boy… isn’t that why Richard left?”

 

Bruce flinched, the memory of Dick punching him in the face and storming away still fresh in his mind. “It’ll be different with Jason….” He whispered, “… he won’t be like Dick.”

 

Smirking, Ras shrugged. “And therein lies your problem…. You’re going about it all wrong. You’re lucky that you’ve been given another chance. You will be haunted by three spirits, one after the other, starting after the first hour of the day has passed.”

 

Bruce shook his head, “Can’t I meet them all at once and get it over with? I’ve had enough of ghosts for one lifetime.”

 

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that…” Ras turned to leave, “… remember, at the first strike of one, the first ghost will appear.”

 

Before he could pass through the door, Bruce held out a hand, “Wait! What’s going to happen to you?”

 

Ras smirked, “Is that concern I hear?”

 

“I just want to make sure you’re going to the right place.”

 

“Well… rest assured, I will be chained up like this for all eternity. Forgotten and suffering for my crimes….” He then sighed, “… take this chance Bruce. For your sake.”

 

With this, the spirit disappeared through the door, closely followed by Bruce, who burst into the corridor… to find nothing.

 

Ras was gone.

 

Shaking his head, Bruce headed back into the room, changed into his pyjamas and crawled into bed, trying to push the strange incident out of his mind.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

After a few hours of restless tossing and turning, Bruce found himself sitting against his headboard in an attempt to mediate. As the bedside clock flickered and turned one, he desperately tried to focus on anything but the warning he was given.

 

The seconds passed and with each one, Bruce relaxed… that is, until his room suddenly filled with light and another ghostly figure materialised in his room.

 

“… Mom?”


	2. Ghost of Christmas Past

“… Mom?” Bruce gasped, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, “H-How, I-I-I- “

 

The spirit shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “I am not your Mother young one… I have merely taken this form in order to make this easier for you.”

 

The answer was disappointing…. He didn’t need the spirit taking on the form of his Mother… he needed his actual Mother. Straightening up, Bruce glared at the ghost. “Then who and what are you?”

 

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

 

“Long past?”

 

“Your past…” The spirit held out a hand, “… come. Let us go.”

 

Warily, Bruce took a hold of the offered hand, taking care not to startle in surprise when he felt the cool fingers clench around his own. Slowly he followed the spirit of his Mother towards the large windows, watching as they were flung open. However, as the ghost stepped out onto thin air, Bruce found himself trying to get rid of the death grip on his hand. “Please, I’m mortal! I’ll fall!”

 

The spirit smiled, sending a pang of grief through Bruce’s heart at how familiar it was to him. “Don’t worry Bruce… whilst you still have a hold of my hand, you will not fall.”

 

And with that, the spirit pulled him through the window and down towards the ground below. Bruce tensed as they quickly approached the courtyard that lay below the window, however, a few metres away from impact, there was a blinding flash, causing Bruce to squeeze his eyes shut.

 

When he re-opened them, he found himself standing in a very familiar corridor. “You’ve just brought me back into the house…” he grumbled, “… what’s the point of that?”

 

Suddenly, a familiar figure raced past them, prompting Bruce to leap to the side in an attempt to avoid being run over. The spirit chuckled warmly at this, “These are the shadows of the past. They have no consciousness of us.”

 

“The past? What- “ Bruce shook his head, “T-that was Alfred… but younger, I’m sure it was!”

 

“A good friend of yours?”

 

“My Butl…. Friend. The best…. He was always there for me, usually when no-one else was.”

 

“It’s Christmas… most children would be running around in excitement. Where are you?”

 

Glancing around, Bruce quickly deduced which Christmas this was. Silently, he walked further up the corridor, closely followed by the spirit. Opening the door that used to be his parents’ bedroom, their eyes instantly landed on the young boy curled up on top of the covers.

 

“You are… upset.” The spirit whispered.

 

Bruce sighed wearily, “My parents were killed a few months before this… I wasn’t really feeling in the Christmas mood.”

 

“At all?”

 

“What was the point of Christmas, when the two people I loved most in the world were gone?”

 

“Maybe we should go to another Christmas?”

 

“There’s no point…” Whispered Bruce, “… nothing was ever the same since they were killed.”

 

“That’s not entirely true….”

 

The younger Bruce blurred, aging before their eyes until he was in his younger twenties.

 

“Master Bruce!” called out a voice from the corridor, and the older Bruce found himself smiling at the sight of Alfred cautiously peering into the room, “Everyone is waiting for you Master Bruce. The first Christmas Ball held at Wayne Manor for almost a decade, a lot of people are very excited to see you.”

 

Bruce watched as his past-self neatened out his tie, sending a shy smile towards the butler as the older man stepped in to neaten it himself, still talking about who was there and the snow falling outside.

 

“What a remarkable man.” Whispered the spirit, a fond smile on her face as she watched Alfred.

 

Nodding in agreement, Bruce made a mental note to get Alfred something extra special this year…. Maybe some new cufflinks?

 

“Maybe we need to see another Christmas.”

 

A blinding light surrounded them once again, and this time, Bruce found himself in the main entrance hall, where decorations hung from the ceiling and walls, and Alfred was busy decorating a large pine tree.

 

“Another annual Christmas party…” Bruce sighed as he turned to spirit, “… no matter how many parties the upper classes of Gotham go to, this one always seemed to be the highlight of the year.”

 

There was a commotion from the stairs and a slightly younger Bruce made his way downstairs, closely followed by a small child.

 

“That’s Dick…” Bruce couldn’t help but smiled fondly, “… I think this was his first Christmas here. I think I tried to make it extra special for him.”

 

“Hmph… unlike with Jason.” The spirit muttered, causing Bruce to glare at it (especially as it sounded so much like his Mother when she was disappointed in him). They watched as the room filled up with everyone who was anyone, all laughing and chatting.

 

“How peaceful…” the spirit then whispered, smiling as she and Bruce moved through the crowd (literally!), taking in every familiar face.

 

And then Bruce froze up when he spotted a familiar woman heading towards his younger self. “Rachel…”

 

“…. You know this young lady?”

 

Bruce nodded silently as his past self met up with Rachel, a fond smile on his face. “She… she was one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

 

“…. You loved her.” The spirit gave him a knowing look as Bruce twisted around to try and protest, “And it looks as though she loved you.”

 

They were surrounded by another flash of blinding light and Bruce found himself in the manor gardens, the snow lying crisp on the ground, watching his past self watching Rachel pace back and forth. Rachel was shaking her head in despair. “You can’t keep doing this Bruce? Why can’t you see Batman is making it worse?!”

 

Bruce sighed, remembering this exact argument as his younger self shook his head. “The criminals are scared of Batman, they think twice before doing everything! They think twice before they rob an old woman, or beat up a shop-owner for protection money!”

 

“But every psychopath has come out to try and be the one to take down Batman! No matter who gets killed doing it! What happens when Robin’s killed? When you lose someone who’s a son to you!”

 

There was only silence, as Rachel sighed wearily. “I loved you Bruce…. But sometimes you can be an idiot.”

 

“You should go.”

 

“… Pardon?”

 

Younger Bruce turned to her, a dark look on his face. “Leave…. Now.”

 

Rachel shook her head, “You always do this! As soon as I disagree with you, you act like this, like…. Like every other rich jackass out there! I can’t do it anymore! I can’t stand here and watch you slowly kill yourself, and Richard, by running around and playing the hero!”

 

With that, she spun neatly around on her heel and stormed out of the room. Bruce sneered as his younger self simply sighed and headed to the window, “Idiot…” he muttered softly, “… You should’ve said something sooner.”

 

The spirit frowned, “May I ask what happened to her?”

 

“…. She was killed. One of Joker’s schemes.” Bruce then shook his head, trying to get rid of the tears in his eyes, “Take me back…. I don’t want to see anymore. Take me away from here!”

 

Sensing that Bruce was upset with him, the spirit attempted to reason with him, “I told you these were the shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me!”

 

“LEAVE ME!” Bruce yelled, sinking to the ground and burying his head in his hands. When he next opened his eyes, he found that he was kneeling on the floor of his room. It was dark and silent, with no sign that anything ever happened.

 

Wearily, he climbed back into bed…. Just as the clock began to chime again.

 

A bright light filled the room again, which caused Bruce to dive under the covers in an attempt to save his eyes.

 

And then he heard another familiar voice.

 

“Come on Bruce! What did you used to say to me about hiding under my covers?”


	3. Ghost of Christmas Present

Bruce frowned at the familiar voice, removing the duvet and staring at the young man by his bed.

 

“… Dick?”

 

Dick shook his head, the younger man’s characteristic smile on his face, “Call me the Ghost of Christmas Present. Your first son seemed like the best choice.”

 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Bruce groaned, rolling his eyes as the spirit continued.

 

“You’ve already experienced one ghost. You shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce.”

 

He had a good point. Scanning the spirit from head to toe, Bruce frowned at the familiar Nightwing suit on the body… but the lack of weapons concerned him slightly more. “No batons?”

 

The spirit shook his head and smiled gently at Bruce. “I believe in peace…. I don’t need any weapons.”

 

“…. Right.” Slowly, Bruce got out of bed and sighed wearily, “Alright… let’s go.”

 

The spirit then sat on the bed, patting the spot beside him in a silent plea for Bruce to sit next to him, which he was quick to do. His eyes widened in shock as the floor seemed to vanish beneath his feet, his room looking as though it was flying over the streets of Gotham.

 

“This is- “

 

“- Amazing. Yeah… I know.”

 

Bruce couldn’t help but nod in agreement as the sun started to rise, indicating that Christmas day had arrived. He smiled as he watched children playing in the snow, excited to play with their new toys as the sun glittered off the frost covered windows.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

The spirit seemed pleased with Bruce’s quiet statement, humming as the scene below them blurred, zooming through the streets of Gotham until they stopped at a local soup kitchen. Noticing the lack of people, he rolled his eyes, “I’m so glad I donate huge sums of money to that place…. Can’t even be bothered to open on Christmas Day. The tradition of closing for this holiday has robbed people of a good warm meal!”

 

The spirit’s smile disappeared (a disconcerting sight on Dick’s face). “Hear me…” they hissed, “… there are some upon this planet claim to know me and do ill deeds in my name. They are strangers to me…. Charge the doings to them, not me.”

 

The scene changed again, revealing a young man seating on a bed, head buried in a largish book.

 

“Why are we here?” Bruce asked, “Why bring me here?”

 

“Don’t you recognise him?”

 

Upon closer inspection, Bruce realised that it was Jason…. Strange. He never took the street kid for a book-worm.

 

At the gentle knock on the door, Jason glanced up, beaming when Alfred made his way inside, several boxes in his hand.

 

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion Master Jason…” Alfred greeted, “… but as Bruce is refusing to come out, I thought we might celebrate Christmas with just the two of us.”

 

“You’re the best Alfred!”

 

The spirit seemed disappointed at the sight, “How is it, that Alfred is more of a father to him, than you are… his actually father?”

 

Bruce was silent, watching as his son eagerly tore into the present…. He didn’t remember buying half of these.

 

“The entire collection of Sherlock Holmes!” Jason beamed, fingers tracing the soft, red leather cover, “Thanks Alfred!”

 

“You are most welcome Master Jason.”

 

From there, the child unwrapped a remote-controlled car, a very expensive one by the look of it; a book on cooking (Bruce did vaguely remember Jason eagerly helping Alfred out in the kitchen a few times) and a few other things.

 

He couldn’t help but smile when Jason gave Alfred his own present, watching as the old butler almost teared up at the sight of the new cufflinks.

 

Had he ever given Alfred a gift… certainly not since he’d turned eighteen.

 

And then the atmosphere changed.

 

Bruce watched as Alfred suddenly darted forwards, grabbing Jason’s arm and pulling the long sleeves up…. And then he gasped. All up along his adoptive sons’ arms were large, black/purple bruises, clearly defensive wounds.

 

Vaguely, Bruce could remember leaving Robin to defend himself against Riddler’s henchman as he himself went after Nygma.

 

The bruises were clearly self-defense wounds.

 

“Didn’t you tell Master Bruce about these?” Alfred asked in concern, turning the arms over and examining the scraped knuckles, “These should have been cleaned and- “

 

“- They’re nothing! Honestly!” Jason protested, gently pulling his arms away and pulling the sleeves back down, “It’s not like I was stabbed or shot!”

 

“Getting beaten can be just as damaging…” Alfred gently chided him, “… I don’t want you turning into Master Bruce. Working yourself to the bone and almost killing yourself at least twice a week.”

 

“But- “

 

“- Please Jason.” 

 

The uncharacteristic use of his first name and his first name only caused Jason to stop in his tracks in shock.

 

“Please…” Alfred shook his head, “… I can’t be in that cave and watch Master Bruce only bring your body back. I don’t think my heart could deal with that.”

 

Jason was silent for a few moments, before he shook his head. “It won’t happen… Bruce is training me to be stronger, making into the perfect hero! I’m already way stronger than I was!”

 

“All the muscles in the world won’t stop a bullet… or an explosion.”

 

Bruce winced at the blunt words coming from his butler…. He’d heard them all before of course, but never in relation to a child. He turned to the spirit, “W-Will he live… Jason? Please tell me I don’t get him killed?”

 

The spirit simply sighed, “I see an empty seat at the family table…. A Robin suit carefully preserved behind a glass barrier. If these shadows remain unaltered, then yes… Jason will die. But, if his death helps keep Gotham safe, then maybe it’s a necessary sacrifice?”

 

Another wince, as Jason jokingly did his best Tiny Tim impression in order to try and make Alfred smile again.

 

“God bless us everyone!”

 

Dick tapped the side of the bed, and the scene blurred, leaving the bedroom far behind. When the room swirling around, Bruce realised he was in the Watchtower, which had been all decorated for the special occasion. 

 

He hadn’t even realised…. He hadn’t been there in months.

 

Sitting around the council table, were the other founding members of the Justice League, all eagerly chatting about the Christmas that they’d had with loved ones

 

Ah yes… this was the little Christmas gathering the Justice League had held every year since it first began.

 

Batman had never gone.

 

It was only for two hours, but that was still far too long for him.

 

“So, you’re thinking of an animal?” Diana asked.

 

Clark nodded, a sly grin on his face (one that Bruce didn’t think the farm boy was capable of). “Yep.”

 

“A live animal?” Hal this time.

 

“Yes.”

 

“A nocturnal one maybe?” Flash.

 

“Yes.”

 

“An animal that nobody really likes?” Hawkgirl.

 

“Yes.”

 

Everyone thought to themselves for a few moments, before Aquaman spoke up, “Wait… it is an animal that grunts and growls?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And lives in caves?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“A rat?”

 

“No…” 

 

“A cockroach?”

 

“No.”

 

Flash then grinned, “Maybe… a bat?”

 

“…. Yes and no.”

 

There was silence for a few minutes, before Flash jumped up, waving his hand in excitement. “I know! I know! It’s Batman!”

 

“You’ve got it!”

 

Bruce’s face fell as the rest of the founding members all laughed at his expense, as Diana shook her head in dismay. “I cannot believe that man…. It is such a joyous time of the year, and he insists on spending it as miserable as possible.” She sighed, “I have very little patience with him….”

 

Shaking his head, Clark sighed, “I kind of feel sorry for him.”

 

“Indeed…” J’onn nodded in agreement, “… it is only he who suffers through his actions. He might not like us, he may refuse to join any activities of ours outside of missions… the only negative thing that happens, is that he loses out on having friends.”

 

The rest of them nodded in agreement, and Clark smiled sadly. “Well…. It would still be wrong of us not to drink to his health. He might not like it, but it’s not up to him.” He raised his glass, “To Batman!”

 

Bruce simply stared at the ground as the scene went dark, until he and the spirit ended up in the Wayne Mansion graveyard, the snow lining the ground. “Do you want to hurt me spirit?” he whispered, shivering slightly in the cold.

 

Dick sighed wearily and shook his head, turning to the side, “I need to introduce you to someone….” He crooked a finger and two children crawled out from behind a grave. One was a boy, with dirty brown hair the other was a girl, blonde hair tied up in pigtails.…. They were also dirty, wearing tattered clothes that barely clung to the meagre flesh on their bodies

 

The sight of them made Bruce step back in shock. “A-are they yours?”

 

“They are man’s…. the boy is ignorance and the girl is want. You should be wary of them.” The spirit flickered, stumbling back and groaning in pain.

 

“There must be r-refuges or resources?” Bruce stammered, keeping his eyes on the horrific figures in front of him as they crawled towards him.

 

The boy seemed to age before his very eyes, into the young man that Bruce had come to know as The Riddler. “Riddle me this! Riddle me that! Who could ever love the big, bad bat!” A metal cage fell over the man, trapping him as the girl aged into Harley Quinn.

 

“Look at me Batsy!” she giggled, “You made Mister J, and he made me!” She then screeched as she was dragged away by an invisible force… one that cackled maniacally in the darkness.

 

Bruce remained where he was, trying not to let it get to him. “I don’t understand…” he whispered, turning away from the screaming and shrieking visions.

 

“You judge people too harshly Bruce… yes, it’s too late for a lot of people in Gotham, but not for all.” The spirit flickered and he sighed wearily, “It’s time for me to go Bruce.”

 

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, flinching as a clock chimed in the distance. However, Dick held up a hand in a silent order for him to stop, “You can’t stop this Bruce… But I’m leaving you in capable hands. The Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come.”

 

With these words, the spirit faded away… and Bruce was left alone. Everything was silent… until he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.


	4. Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

Bruce tensed and spun around. Standing behind him was a tall, muscular figure, dressed in form-fitting armour, a leather jacket and a red helmet which covered his facial features. Bruce resisted the urge to take a step back. “Am i…. are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come?”

 

The figure chuckled, the voice sounding vaguely familiar. “I am he.”

 

“B-But… I don’t recognise you?!”

 

“Lucky you.”

 

Bruce frowned at this, before bowing his head. “You are about to show me the shadows of things that haven’t happened but will…. Right?”

 

Silence.

 

“I think I’m more afraid of you, than any other spectre I’ve seen tonight…. But I know I have to do this.”

 

The spirit shook his head, “And here I thought nothing could scare the Batman.” He strode closer to Bruce, until they were barely a finger’s length apart.

 

Bruce fought the urge to back away as the man lifted his hand to Bruce and placed his palm on his forehead, sending a bolt of pain through Bruce, who squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain.

 

When he next opened his eyes, he found himself back inside the mansion. The atmosphere was subdued, and Bruce found himself frowning in concern at the pure grief that was on Alfred’s face.

 

“I’m so sorry…” the man seemed to whisper to himself, “… I should have done something. I should have put my foot down sooner.”

 

Bruce turned away from the scene and to the spirit, “I know what you’re trying to tell me… my death could cause Alfred pain and- “ He stopped…. It was then that Bruce noticed that Alfred was in Jason’s room.

 

“It’s so dark…” Bruce glanced around, noticing that all of the lights that Jason insisted on having on, were now off, “… and quiet. Why is it so quiet spirit?”

 

Silence.

 

Bruce turned to the doorway as another figure wandered in…. Dick.

 

“It’s past Bruce’s usual time for coming back….” Dick whispered, “… he’s usually here by now.”

 

Alfred nodded, “I think he’s drove home a little slower these last few days… strange really. When he was with M-master Jason, he’d always drive a little faster…. Master Jason used to find it f-fun.” The butler took a deep shuddering breath, clearly trying to regain his composure.

 

“… Is Bruce even sorry?”

 

Alfred didn’t answer, quickly changing the subject. “You should see how nice the grave looks… near the giant oak tree. Master Jason…” Alfred’s breathing shuddered, his shoulder shaking with the effort not to cry, “… Master Jason- “

 

“- Always loved that old oak tree.” Slowly, and not without tears in his own eyes, Dick walked over to sit by Alfred, wrapping an arm around the quivering shoulders, “Jason is… Jason would have loved it. None of us will ever forget him Alfred.”

 

Bruce struggled to breathe as the scene blurred once again to reveal the Bat-cave…. Practically deserted, with a familiar looking uniform carefully preserved in an ornate glass case. “No…” he whispered, “… no, not Jason!”

 

He shook his head in denial as he spun around to face the spirit, “This isn’t happening, this can’t be the only future surely?”

 

The spirit seemed amused at this, “Yeah… I suppose the future is always changing.” It turned away from the scene, “And yet… I can see only one for little Jason.”

 

Bruce frowned, but before he could say anything, the Bat-cave went dark, voices swirling around and echoing off the walls.

 

(“Tell me what bothers you more? That your greatest failure has returned from the grave?”)

 

(“I’m not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow or Dent. I’m talking about him! Just him! And doing it because… because he took me away from you.”)

 

(“B-Batman?”

 

“Batman’s not here Jason… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”)

 

Bruce spun around as he tried to locate where the Joker was… he recognised that laughter anywhere. “Joker? Joker! What’s going on?! Answer me spirit!”

 

The spirit remained silent as the voices continued.

 

(“You know, I thought... I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt”)

 

(“I don't know what clouds your judgement worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why, why on God's earth...Is he still alive!”

 

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”)

 

Bruce grew even more confused, “What’s happening!?” he cried out, as the Joker’s laughter rang in his ears, causing him to wince and fall to his knees, “Please… stop…” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

For a while, the laughter continued until suddenly… they cut off.

 

Bruce hesitated for a few moments, before lifting his head and glancing around.

 

He was back in the graveyard.

 

He shook his head, “Our time is coming to an end… I know what I need to ask.” He sighed, “Who’s was that voice? The one with the Joker. I know it but- “

 

Bruce flinched, cutting himself off as the spirit chuckled and pointed a finger at a grave in the distance… a grave covered in snow. From this distance, Bruce couldn’t read any of the carvings on it… including the name.

 

(“What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand? A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory.”

 

Spitting noise.)

 

Bruce spun away from the grave and turned back to the spirit, “Answer me one more question! Are these the shadows that will be, or are they the shadows of things that may be only?!”

 

(“Now, that was rude. The first boy blunder had some manners. I suppose I'm going to have to teach you a lesson, so you can better follow in his footsteps. Nah, I'm just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar.”)

 

The spirit ignored both Bruce and the voice coming from the shadows, pointing at the grave again.

 

Bruce frowned, “These events can be changed! This can all be changed!” He took another step closer to the grave, “I can make this right!”

 

(“Jason… no”)

 

Falling to his knees in front of the grave, Bruce slowly reached out and brushed the snow away from the name. “J-Jason Todd…” he knew tears were starting to stream down his face as he leapt to his feet and ran back to the spirit, “Oh please Spirit, no! Listen to me, I-I’m not the man I was! Why would you show me this, if I’m past all hope?”

 

The spirit remained silent.

 

Bruce shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I will honour Christmas and try to keep it all the year! I will live my life in the past, the present and the future. I won’t shut out the lessons the spirits have taught me! Tell me that I may erase the writing on this grave!”

 

Bruce grabbed a hold of the spirit’s jacket, “Please answer me!”

 

Letting go of the jacket, Bruce rocked backwards and forwards until he fell forwards… onto a soft surface


	5. Making Things Right

Tears still streaming down his face, Bruce warily lifted his head up from the soft surface, only to gasp in shock. “I’m back… I’m still here.” He whispered.

With a cry of joy, he leapt to his feet and ran out into the corridor, “Jason!” he cried out, running into his son’s room… only to find it empty. Bruce frowned, “He’s…. gone?”

 

Taking note of the clothes strewn all over the floor, he quickly concluded that his adoptive son had simply left earlier… that the horrible vision that he’d seen hadn’t come to pass. Pacing up and down the corridor, Bruce couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t know what to do! I’m as light as a feather! Merry as a child!”

 

He chuckled, quickly getting dressed, and racing out to his Aston Martin, kicking it into high gear and speeding off into town. As he practically raced through the mall, he almost knocked into a small boy dressed in fine clothing.

 

“You! What day is it today?”

 

The boy seemed really stunned to see him, mouth gaping open slightly, before he pulled himself together. “I- what?”

 

Vaguely, he remembered the boy from one of the Wayne fundraisers, Drake… Thomas? Timothy? Something like that.

 

“Today… what day is it today?”

 

“Ummm…. Christmas Day?” The boy seemed both shocked and confused at the seemingly stupid question… the shock only grew when Bruce grinned.

 

“Christmas Day!” Bruce turned away from the boy and began to mutter to himself, “The spirits have done it all in one night… they can do anything they like. Of course, they can!”

 

He turned back to the child, who took a step back in shock. “Is the electronics store still open? The one with all those gaming systems.”

 

“Ummm… only until noon Mister Wayne.”

 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile warmly at the child, “Excellent, what’s the best system to get?”

 

“Ummm… PS4 probably?”

 

“Wonderful! Go and buy it!”

 

This seemed to be final straw for the boy, who frowned at the older man, “I-I don’t have the money for that!”

 

“No worries….” Bruce pulled out his wallet, shoving a couple hundred-dollar bills into the boys’ hand, “… this should cover the costs for the best deal in there. Here’s another hundred dollars as your reward. Meet me back here, okay?”

 

The child glanced at the money, eyes widening slightly just before he dashed off. Bruce grinned, “Jason will love it… boys love gaming systems… I hope.”

 

Less than fifteen minutes later, the child was back, struggling slightly with the weight of the new console. “I got it!”

 

“Excellent!” Bruce gently took it off him, before handing him another hundred-dollar bill, acting like he’d forgotten to give it to him before, “Have a Merry Christmas… Timothy.”

 

Tim beamed in delight, clearly thrilled with the fact that Bruce Wayne knew his name. “I hope you have a merry Christmas Mister Wayne!” he exclaimed, before running away, missing Bruce’s soft smile.

 

“I hope so too…” he whispered, grabbing the console and running back to the car, knowing that he had to get back to the mansion and quickly.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………

 

“Mister Mayor! Mister Mayor!”

 

The Mayor seemed stunned to hear his voice, spinning around in shock before plastering a false smile on his face, “Mister Wayne! I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought- “

 

“- I know. I know.” Bruce held up his hand to stop the older man, “I just wanted to apologise for my attitude yesterday. I’ve been… a little bit stressed recently, and whilst I still cannot attend the charity even, I do wish to make a donation.”

 

He leant in close, and whispered his chosen sum into the other man’s ear.

 

“That much!” the Mayor exclaimed in shock.

 

“And not a penny less. I can only hope that it’ll be enough.”

 

“W-well thank you! Thank you very much!”

 

…………………………………………………………………

 

Batman sighed wearily… he’d been outside the Justice League meeting room for a few minutes now… pacing. From his position, he could vaguely hear a familiar conversation.

 

“A rat?”

 

“No…” 

 

“A cockroach?”

 

“No.”

 

He quickly pushed open the door in order to avoid the next part of the conversation. The room fell silent as he stepped into the light, and when everyone turned to stare at him, Batman resisted the urge to take a step back. “Don’t look so surprised…” he growled, taking his usual seat, “… I might not be welcome but- “

 

“- Of course you’re welcome!” Superman eagerly interrupted, leaning over and wrapping his arm around Batman’s shoulder (ignoring how the other man tensed up), “I don’t know what prompted this change of mind but we’re not complaining. How’s Robin? Enjoying Christmas?”

 

“I hope so… I’ll see him later today…. Hopefully.”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Later on that evening, Bruce waited patiently in the living room. He’d seen the note from Alfred, indicating that he and Jason had gone for a walk in the late afternoon snow. As it was getting dark, he knew they would be back soon.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the front door opened, and Jason’s Christmas excitement could still be heard. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way into the lobby.

 

“And just where have you two been?”

 

Alfred tensed up slightly, eyes narrowing at Bruce as Jason instantly went on the defensive. “He left you a note…” the teenager growled, “… I saw it.”

 

Bruce tried not to laugh, keeping the stern expression on his face, “I don’t want to hear it Jason… follow me.”

 

“Master Bruce, please- “

 

“- No Alfred. Jason is going to get exactly what he deserves.”

 

Ignoring the flash of fear that swept over his son’s face, Bruce strode back into the living room and picked up the large box that contained the gaming system. As soon as Jason entered the room, his eyes widened in shock.

 

“Merry Christmas Jason!” 

 

There was only silence as Jason accepted the present, eyes scanning over the box in amazement, before he glanced up at Bruce. “T-Thank you, but… w-why?”

 

Gently pulling Jason over to the sofa and encouraging him to take a seat, he wrapped an arm around the boy in a one-armed hug, “I have been…. Cruel to you Jason. I was so blinded by my own mistakes, believing I was better than everyone else, and because of this, you’ve been hurt.”

 

Jason still looked confused, remaining silent as Bruce continued.

 

“I am so sorry Jason. I vow to do everything in my power in order to make things right between us.”

 

The smile on Jason’s face was worth every struggle.

 

…………………………………………………………………

 

Several years later, Bruce snuck across the town peering through a cracked window as Red Hood settled down for the night.

 

He wanted to stop everything that had been shown to him, and whilst it could be argued that his and Jason’s relationship was improved by the ghostly experience, it didn’t stop the terrible vision from coming true.

 

“If you’re going to linger out there, you might as well come in.”

 

Bruce winced at the annoyed tone in his son’s voice, opening up the window a little and climbing in. “Jason, I- “

 

The gun aimed at his head wasn’t really a surprise. 

 

“What are you doing here Bruce?” Jason growled, “Because I sure as hell didn’t- “

 

“- It’s Christmas.”

 

There was a brief moment of silence, before Jason wearily lowered his weapon and sighed. “I don’t think I’ll fit in with your perfect little family anymore Bruce.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says me!”

 

Jason wasn’t as angry as he had been before, but he was clearly hurting. Maybe he was expecting Bruce to just give and leave? To climb back out of the window and leave him there to celebrate Christmas alone… probably with a bottle of strong alcohol.

 

No, Bruce wasn’t going to let that happen.

 

“I vowed a long time ago, that you would be happy. I’m not leaving you here in order to brood in silence on Christmas Jason… please. Come home.”

 

Jason just stared at him.

 

“Jason, I- “

 

“- You’d better have got me some presents.”

 

Bruce stopped at the teasing statement, eyes widening behind the mask as Jason pushed himself to his feet. “I- Really?”

 

“Everyone should get presents at Christmas.” Jason then moved to a cupboard, opening it up and pulling a large black bag out, before smirking and moving past Bruce to climb out of the window.

 

“…. You were going to come anyway.”

 

“Cheer up Bruce…” Jason clapped the man on the back, “… I’m willing to let Alfred believe you just wouldn’t give up and was willing to do anything to bring me back.”

 

“Promise?”


End file.
